nature and wildlife

As an occasional visitor and fan of the high Arctic, I found the photographs of the Alaska National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) in this book to be among the most beautiful images of the Arctic that I have seen -- whether with my own eyes or in pictures. The photographs of the land and wildlife as well as the accompanying essays by the photographer and some of the leading nature writers of our day, all speak eloquently for full protection of this great wilderness. In particular, that the controversial Coastal Plain area should be granted wilderness status and thus permanently protected from industrial development.

In my opinion, this book is environmental advocacy in its finest form. As always, advocacy is controversial. Another "reviewer" of this book, Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska, who is an avid supporter of oil drilling in the Refuge said in a Senate speech "This book is pure propaganda."

Developing and preserving the more than 500 National Wildlife Refuges have been contentions political issues since Theodore Roosevelt established the first one in 1903. There have been continual battles between using the Refuges for activities such as mining, military exercises, grazing, and use of motorized vehicles and their primary purpose of protecting wildlife. In that sense, the ongoing ANWR debate is "simply" the latest and best known of a long series of struggles between development and conservation in the Refuges. (The recently published Smithsonian Book of National Wildlife Refuges contains an excellent account of this history.)

The case for development can be quantified in terms of dollars and cents, jobs, and taxes to be collected. By contrast, the case for conservation is impossible to quantify. It depends on softer almost spiritual arguments -- demonstrating the value of natural beauty; understanding that preservation of the diversity of all species is almost certainly crucial to the preservation of our own, and preserving for future generations small portions of the planet untrammeled by man.

Reconciling these objectives for the ANWR is ultimately a matter of judgement for it's guardians -- the American people and their elected representatives. To decide wisely we need to be informed about the land and the issues that surround it. Thus I encourage you to buy (or borrow from your library) this important book, read it, and share with your fellow citizens what you have learned.

It's not too often that a book of nature photographs gets to fuel a congressional debate or lead to the Smithsonian being accused of being politicized but this book has done that.

Subhankar Banerjee, an engineer from India, took these pictures because he wanted to move public opinion to save the coastal plain adjacent to the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge as a wild place. This book was displayed on the floor of Congress by a debating Senator who agreed with Banerjee. Shortly thereafter the Smithsonian, which had scheduled a showing of Banerjee's pictures in the museum's main hall, moved the pictures to a far less desirable location and cut the captions to almost nothing. Accusations of political tampering have been flying fast and furious since then.

There is little doubt that this is a book of advocacy. From the introduction by President Jimmy Carter to essays by the Pulitzer Prize winning nature writer Peter Matheson and bird artist Allen Sibley, among others, the book makes a plea for preservation of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, with particular note of strong attacks on the refuge by forces supporting the petroleum industry.

The various essays describing travels in the refuge will be of interest to those who enjoy reading about trips through the great outdoors, although you have to be ready for a big dose of anti-oil rhetoric. However, I expect that no one who reads this book will be a strong supporter of the energy industry, so that much of the writing will be preaching to the converted.

I can be counted as supporting preservation of the refuge, and I'd love to give this book a high rating, but I thought there were far too many pages of essays and not enough pictures. And, ultimately I think this book must be judged by the author's photographs. Unfortunately the photos are of only of so-so quality.

Some of Banerjee's shots are spectacular, like those of herds of oxen against the midnight sun. Others are as subtle as the textures of the refuge itself, like the pictures of lichens growing on rocks. But most of the pictures are straight forward record shots with little sophistication. They provide information but not inspiration. Banerjee is not a great photographic artist. If that's what you want get Art Wofe's book of highly saturated, incredibly composed photographs, "Alaska". Wolfe's picture of a single Dall Sheep looks majestic. Banerjee's looks, well, moth-eaten. Banerjee's shot of a herd of Dall Sheep is a bunch of sheep in a green field. Wolfe's is an environmental photo of a herd amongst precipitous mountains.

If you want a book dedicated exclusively to the refuge, and you want to show support for the refuge, and it's not important that you have great pictures to inspire you, you may want this book. Otherwise, look elsewhere for great photography of the refuge.

I bought this book because there was no other way to understand the photos that were on display at the Museum of Natural History. I was not alone; several people walked around Banerjee's exhibition with their books in hand. The curator had removed all descriptive labels, and the introductory plaque emphasized how small the Arctic refuge is compared to other such reserves throughout the country. The photos were mounted in a corridor leading to an elevator. It was poorly lit, and crowded with people passing through. It was in the back of the building, and hard to find. It was a startling contrast to the Eliot Porter exhibition in one of the main exhibition halls above the ground floor. That exhibition was well designed, well described, and included copies of books like "Silent Spring" by Rachel Carson, hardly a neutral text. The only message I could take away was that environmentalism is "safe" to the Smithsonian curators only when it's at least 30 or 40 years old.

The treatment of Banerjee's photos was so troublesome that Congress held hearings on the matter. But no news report could compare to the feeling of being there, near the elevator.

I took the book home with me, trying to understand whether or not the poor installation was due to poor material or to poor museum administration. Banerjee's photos, and the stories and writings around the photos, are greatly compelling. The story of how hard he worked to get those photos, and of how in the process, he became a better photographer, stood out to me. I highly recommend the book, but I hope I have helped some enthusiasts know just how controversial the notion of natural beauty can be, and how the Smithsonian does play politics. Apparently, reading Banerjee's book can be considered an act of protest.